


The One with the Perfect Cup of Tea

by ifreet



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifreet/pseuds/ifreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title/prompt by akarui_rynka, who probably didn't expect the fic to go all melancholy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One with the Perfect Cup of Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akarui_rynka](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=akarui_rynka).



_During an interview in an apartment in Jackson, Jane practically spat the tea back out, setting off a scene that lead to the admission that he had (probably) orchestrated._

Kimball glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen when he heard the damp thud of the tea bag hitting the trashcan. It'd steeped at least five minutes and had to be tannin-bitter. He picked up his own coffee mug and went for a refill. Jane raised his eyebrows at him over the rim of the cup, but Kimball was just heading to the break room to get some coffee. He wasn't checking on Jane.

 _In a nice restaurant near Lodi, Jane took one sip and set his cup down with a distressed look._

Jane wasn't really that picky about his tea. If he were, Kimball figured he'd be more exacting in his own brewing habits. No, Jane drank tea the way normal cops (actual cops) drank coffee. Jane drank tea because it was something to do with his hands, because it gave him a reason not to speak or a reason to put someone out, ever so slightly. The actual drink didn't matter much.

 _After his injury in Sacramento, even Van Pelt avoided making Jane tea, no matter how he sighed._

Jane's reaction to a particular cup of tea said more about Jane's state of mind than the state of the tea within it. When Jane was in favor with the world, all tea became good tea. When he was out of sorts, there was no pleasing him. Though knowing he'd made someone remake a perfectly decent cup to his suddenly precise standards sometimes seemed to cheer him up.

 _Jane made a mostly-hidden face at the taste but held onto the mug as he wandered around the house outside Clearlake._

Jane drank tea for a number of reasons. For energy. For warmth. For distraction. Out of habit.

Jane pulled on his jacket, announcing boredom and hunger to the room at large. He didn't specifically look at Cho or not look at Cho. And yet, he knew that when he finished his reports and went home, Jane will have let himself in and made himself at home, a bag of take-out on the counter and his feet on Kimball's couch.

Kimball hoped he wasn't tea.


End file.
